


End of an era

by Rozzlynn



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, And a good dog, Blindness, Domesticity, Fix-It, Gen, Gertrude is dead, Happy Ending, Jonah dies, Lying and scheming, Offscreen Violence, nobody else dies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-14
Updated: 2020-02-14
Packaged: 2021-02-28 02:41:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22596454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rozzlynn/pseuds/Rozzlynn
Summary: After recovering from lung cancer in America, Gerard Keay returns to the UK to investigate Gertrude's disappearance, changing the lives of the new Archival team.
Relationships: Georgie Barker & Jonathan Sims, Gerard Keay & Gertrude Robinson, Gerard Keay & Jonathan Sims, Martin Blackwood & Sasha James & Jonathan Sims & Tim Stoker
Comments: 13
Kudos: 128
Collections: The Magnus Archives Rare Pairs 2020





	1. End of an era

**Author's Note:**

  * For [tonyjasper99](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tonyjasper99/gifts).



> Written for tonyjasper99 in the Magnus Archives Rare Pairs 2020 exchange. As per the request, there's no descriptive eye horror; several characters quit offscreen as their path to a happy ending, but it's not actually shown. And it sort of includes a first hangout with a guest. I hope it's close enough to what you wanted, as a fill.

Gerry pressed a steadying hand to the wall of the tunnel, taking a minute to breathe. Returning to the UK might've been easier if he'd given himself a while longer to recover his strength before attempting the trip. But Gertrude Robinson had been missing for months already, presumed dead, and he suspected that the longer he put off visiting the Magnus Institute, the worse the situation would get. Whatever the situation might be.

He'd phoned Rosie first thing in the morning to arrange a meeting with the new Archivist later today, on the pretext of returning some statement files that Gertrude had left with him in America. He'd even brought the papers along, as an icebreaker, though he didn't expect they'd be much use to anyone. Gertrude's research was bound to have progressed in all the time that had elapsed since their travels, and whatever plans she'd formed, he was keen to hear them straight from the source.

Following the hunch that had brought him to the tunnels, he continued down the passage until he reached an unmarked door. His skin prickled as he turned the handle and stepped inside. 

Gertrude's corpse sat in a wooden chair, slumped forward with her elbows resting on her knees. Three bullet wounds were visible in her chest, staining the front of her cardigan a rusty brown in the torchlight. Several dusty piles of cardboard boxes were arrayed around her, full to the brim with cassette tapes. 

Gerry sighed and set his rucksack on the floor, kneeling to rifle through its contents. He took out a large misshapen book, a scalpel, and a marker pen. 

After rising to his feet, he pressed a hand to the spine of the book and stared at Gertrude, silently calling on their patron to disclose the details of her final moments. 

"...Jonah Magnus, huh? Figures. You thought it would hurt more? Hm. This is going to hurt, but it's what you'd want, isn't it? All that unfinished business. Come on, then. Let's get you back on your feet." 

***

Gertrude glanced around the room, letting her gaze come to rest on its sole living occupant. 

"Thank you, Gerard."

"No problem. I wrote your page in Sanskrit, just so you know. Seems to be more effective than English."

"Yes, your mother once told me something to that effect. I didn't expect to find out the efficacy first hand, but considering the circumstances, I'm not inclined to complain."

"Thought not." Gerard offered her a faint smile. "Want some help taking another shot at Jonah?"

"Yes, I think I'd better try again. Might I ask how long it's been?"

"Quite a while. Today's Thursday the 28th of January 2016." Gerard took a quick look at his phone. "Almost one thirty in the afternoon."

"Ah. I suppose _Elias_ has chosen a new Archivist, then."

"Yeah, some bloke called Jonathan Sims, according to Rosie. Plus three Archival Assistants. Sasha James, Timothy Stoker, and Martin Blackwood."

"A team of four? That's..."

"A lot of collateral damage?" Gerard shrugged. "You could tell them how to quit. They might not be keen on it, but it's their choice, right? Unless you're worried they'd rat us out to Elias."

"I'm more concerned about Elias' reasons for transferring so many staff. I thought we'd both come to the same conclusion about the grand rituals being doomed to failure. If he intends to occupy himself by feeding the Eye as he has always done, without setting aside the resources I used to request for interfering with the rituals of other powers... Why would he assign so many assistants right from the start? I didn't even hire Emma until a few years in."

"So he's planning something. And whatever it is, it's bad news. Don't see how that changes things. You want revenge, don't you?"

"Hm, yes. I had hoped to retire, after freeing myself from the Institute, but I suppose revenge is all that's left now. That, and curbing whatever he's up to. We had better move quickly. I expect he's aware that you're back in London."

"Probably. I snuck into the tunnels through the pub down the road. Got a meeting with the new Archivist later, and I asked him to meet me there, so I can bring him in the same way, if you want to get him involved."

"Mm. Get him to bring the assistants, too. If they cooperate, we might stand a better chance this time. The eclipse and its accompanying ritual wasn't enough of a distraction, when I was alone in the archives, but with seven of us..."

"Seven? Who else...?"

"I'd better introduce you to Leitner. He was going to meet me in the tunnels, last time, but the plan never got that far."

"Leitner. You really found him?"

"Yes. I don't expect he'll be keen to see you, considering how violently you reacted the last time you met him, but..."

"That was really - ?"

"Please try to curb your temper. We need allies, and I trust that he will help us see this through."

Gerard kicked at the dust covering the floor. "...Sure."

"Let's round him up before you fetch the others." 

Gertrude headed for the doorway, and Gerard followed in her incorporeal footsteps.

***

Hours later, after a great many introductions and grim explanations, the small crowd gathered around Gertrude's body lapsed into silence. 

Her ghost stood between Gerard and Leitner, much to the relief of the latter. Gerard had interrupted most of Leitner's attempts to contribute to the discussion with curt corrections and contemptuous glares.

Jon leaned against the far wall, his eyes flickering between the three of them. On the way through the tunnels, he'd tried to demand answers faster than Gerard was willing to provide them, but ever since laying eyes on his predecessor's corpse, he seemed to have received his answers faster than he could process the information. 

Sasha stood nearby, her expression grave and contemplative. Her hands trembled slightly as she picked at the hem of her sleeve, but out of all the newcomers, she seemed the least inclined to panic.

Tim stared into space, his mouth set in an angry line. Martin had spent the last ten minutes kneeling on the floor, his head in his hands. Tim had laid a steadying hand on his shoulder. As the silence stretched on, Martin drew in a deep breath and leaned in a little closer to his colleague.

"So... what now?" Jon asked, his voice wavering. "There are these... embodiments of fear, falling into fourteen broad categories, according to Smirke's system. And they're behind all of the real statements. And Elias is Jonah Magnus, and he has us all trapped, and he's killed a great many people over the years, and we'll probably all die unless we help you, so... what sort of help... what do you want from us?"

"We were hoping you'd be able to provide a distraction," Gerard explained. "Keep Elias occupied while we head through the tunnels. Once we reach the panopticon, we'll destroy Jonah's body, and you'll all be free. So long as you blind yourselves in time. Fail that step, and you'll die in a manner far more agonising than anything you could inflict on yourselves."

"Setting that aside for now, why do you need a distraction in the first place?" Sasha asked. "Didn't you say he can't see us, while we're in the tunnels?"

"He cannot see us in _this_ section of the tunnels," Gertrude clarified. "There are numerous sections, given over to different powers. Servants of the Eye tend to find it difficult to see down here, but there are places where we might expect his vision to be only partially hindered. Once Leitner starts rearranging the walls to clear our path, the risk will be heightened. Especially as we draw closer to the panopticon. Jonah played a part in designing this entire site, and the Eye has made him its 'beating heart'. We cannot say for sure how much progress we'll be able to make before he's alerted to our intentions. However, the risk will be substantially mitigated if you are able to divert his attention."

"So he dies. Then what?" Tim asked, half-suppressed anger in his voice. "There are all these powers, all these monsters popping into existence... How is anyone supposed to learn what's going on, or - or fight back without a record of any of this? If we destroy the archives, all the years of research, and stop there... How does that strike any kind of blow against the Stranger, the circus, or any other nightmare incarnate...?"

"Please believe me when I say that I have spent my career waging a war against every single one of these dread powers," Gertrude assured him. "I certainly hope I've set them back in their efforts, even if the world itself was never at risk. But this isn't a war that can be won once and for all. So long as fear exists, it will take malevolent form. Jonah Magnus is as dangerous a monster as any other, and he uses his powers to aid his allies, much to the detriment of the general population. I couldn't act against him in any meaningful way while I was bound here, so I targeted him as my last stand. If you have a feud with the circus, then I promise I'll help you tackle Orsinov's lot next, in return for your help. Nevertheless, I must insist that we deal with Jonah first. Leave it too long, and he's likely to outmaneuver us."

"When do you want to do this?" Tim checked.

"Tomorrow morning would be best," Gertrude told him, eliciting a harsh laugh from Jon and a small strangled sound from Martin.

"You mean, as soon as we have reason to be in the office, so we can distract him without letting on that we've been scheming behind his back?" Jon asked, an acid edge to his tone that didn't seem to be aimed at anyone here.

"Exactly." Gerard offered him a thumbs up. "Now you're getting it."

"And the, uh, self... blinding...?" Sasha asked tentatively.

"I'm sure there's still some acid around here somewhere," Gertrude told her. "I'll have Gerard dig it out and prepare a vial for each of you. Keep it out of sight until you need it, and Elias should be none the wiser."

"Do we need to arrange a time?" Sasha suggested. "It sounds like using it too soon would be almost as dangerous as using it too late. I mean, if you need us to keep him occupied for as long as possible..."

"I can't say exactly how long it will take us. Perhaps some kind of signal..." Gertrude thought for a moment, then turned to Leitner. "When we reach the panopticon, could you use the Seven Lamps of Architecture to create a tremor that would be felt all the way from the Institute's upper storeys?"

"I dare say I could, yes," Leitner replied cautiously.

"That will serve as your signal," Gertrude decided, turning back to Sasha. "You'll lose Elias' attention at that point, if you haven't already. Drop whatever you're doing and use the acid, or if all else fails, find the nearest sharp object. You'll only have a few minutes to spare."

"Right. Well, that's... better than nothing...?" Jon ventured, sounding slightly dazed. He glanced around the room; when his gaze landed on Tim and Martin, he frowned and made a visible effort to pull himself together. "Ah, Martin. If you're scared, you don't need to... I mean, it'd be for the best if you don't confront Elias directly. Why don't you hide down here with Gertrude, and, ah, I'm sure she'll help you get through this?"

"Mmh?" Martin rubbed his face, and finally looked up. Though he seemed distraught, he didn't appear to have been crying, at least. "N-no, that's not exactly... It's just, my Mum..."

"Your mother...?" Jon sounded mildly confused.

"Yeah, she's been in a private care home for about as long as I've worked here. Before that, I - I looked after her. When we were researching the options, I tried to pick somewhere with a good reputation, somewhere she'd be safe, and she seems to like it there, but if anything happened to me, she wouldn't be able to stay. I know some of the council run homes aren't that bad, but you know, you hear so many scandals..."

"Oh." Jon almost looked like he wanted to say more, but he couldn't seem to find the words.

"Sorry, that's not... I'd better just hope she'll be okay, right? Because this is so much bigger... It's not just her life on the line... I, uh, we all need to work together on this, don't we? I'll do what I can," Martin offered. 

"Are you sure?" Tim asked him, squeezing his shoulder.

"Yeah. Whatever you need." Martin gave him a strained smile, and climbed to his feet, rubbing his face again. 

"Are we all in, then?" Jon asked, a dazed note returning to his voice.

"What about everyone else at the Institute?" Sasha checked.

"They shouldn't be affected. Only the Archival staff are bound this way," Gertrude explained.

"Wait, so if we'd heard about this a few months ago, before we transferred, we'd have been safe?" Martin asked, a shade of indignant disbelief suffusing the question. 

"A few months ago, I was still in hospital. Cancer." Gerard clapped a hand to his own chest. "All better now. They say I'm lucky to be alive."

"Oh. S-sorry," Martin mumbled.

"And Gertrude was dead... What's his excuse?" Jon glared at Leitner.

"I couldn't be sure - "

"Don't. Even. Bother." Gerard interrupted Leitner, taking a step closer.

"Boys. Remember, this is not the time for infighting," Gertrude warned them.

"Right." Gerard rolled his eyes, and took a step back.

"So, tomorrow. What exactly are we going to do?" Martin wondered.

"If he suspects that you're up to something, then you might only alert him sooner. Try to come up with believable problems that he won't second guess," Gertrude advised.

"I might just have an idea," Sasha announced.

"Oh, good. I've got a couple of ideas too, but they might not be any good, so let's hear yours first?" Martin offered.

"I can call in some friends to help, depending on what we need," Tim added.

"If we're going to keep Elias occupied for a significant length of time, we'll need plenty of options. Did anyone bring a notebook?" Jon checked.

"I've got one!" Sasha fished it out of her bag.

"Then let's hear your idea, and as many others as we can come up with between us..."

"Ah, one more thing, before you finalise anything," Gertrude interrupted. "You had better not sleep tonight, Jon."

"...What? Why not?" 

"We've fed you a lot of supernatural information today," Gertrude explained, frowning at him over the rim of her glasses. "Neither Gerard nor Leitner can afford to miss a night's sleep, considering the state of their health and the urgency of tomorrow's mission. If you fall asleep too, you're bound to dream of at least some of what we've told you. There's a good chance that Elias will spy on your nightmares, and as a result, he'll know of our meeting, at least in broad strokes."

"Oh. S-so the nightmares, they - they're really...?" Jon sounded faint.

"Supernatural? Yes. Hadn't you figured it out?" Gertrude shot him a piercing stare.

"I - I didn't want to believe it," Jon whispered. "Ah, damn... Naomi..."

"Wait, what?" Martin glanced between them. "Do you mean Naomi Herne, who made that complaint? Have you been dreaming about the statements?"

"Yes, he has," Gertude answered for Jon. "And she will have shared his dreams."

"...What the hell?" Tim contributed eloquently.

"I thought they were just nightmares," Jon protested. "Intense ones, every night, but... But then, they'll be over, after this? And the compulsion to read the written statements, the way the fear within overtakes me as if it were my own, the constant sense of being watched...?"

"Yes, it will all be over soon," Gertrude assured him. "I had to put up with it for fifty years."

"Seriously? You didn't tell us?" Sasha elbowed Jon in the side.

"I... what could I have even told you? That I thought I was losing my mind? I didn't know..." Jon sighed, shaking his head. "I wanted to understand, but... You're right, Gerard. If this is all they are, these entities, suffering feeding on suffering to beget more suffering, then I... if I didn't take this way out, I'd probably end up as one more fool who destroyed himself chasing a secret that wasn’t worth knowing."

"Glad we're on the same page." Gerard smiled, then glanced down at the book in his hands. "Metaphorically."

"Metaphorically speaking, yes." Jon offered him a shaky smile in return.

"Come on, Jon. There's plotting and scheming to be done before the night is out." Sasha drew back his attention.

"Ah, yes. Sorry. You had an idea...?"

***

Friday morning dawned bright and cold. Martin kept his head down as he made his way through the early morning crowds. He stopped in his tracks as he noticed a small dog sat on the pavement nearby. 

"Oh hey. You're a cute one." Martin knelt next to the pomeranian, and fished around in his bag for the sandwiches he'd packed earlier. He removed a few slices of chicken, and offered them to the dog, which placidly ate them from his hand. "You're not lost, are you? No leash, and I don't see your owner nearby...?"

When Martin looked around, a man standing three feet away gave him a wink, then continued holding a conversation on his phone. Martin suppressed a smile, and scooped the pet into his arms.

"Come on, let's get you in out of the cold. I need to get to work, but I can ask our receptionist to keep an eye on you, or call a shelter, or something..."

The dog squirmed and whined as he carried it up the nearby steps and through the door of the Magnus Institute. 

"Morning, Rosie!" Martin approached the reception desk. 

"Good morning. What do you have there?"

"Oh, I found this little one outside, looking lost. Do you think you could call a shelter, or check for any lost animal messages online, maybe?" Martin asked, scratching the dog behind its ears.

"I suppose I can look up the number for a local shelter," Rosie agreed, looking dubious. "What are you going to do with it in the meantime? I don't think Jon will forgive you if you bring another dog into the archives."

"Hey, this isn't like last time. This one isn't going to run off and make a mess," Martin protested. 

"If you say so. You'd better keep it with you, in any case. Hang on while I find that number..."

At that moment, Jon emerged from the stairs to the archives, flicking through a pile of papers. He headed in their direction without looking up. "Rosie, has that delivery of - "

The dog yipped and made another attempt to wriggle free. 

Jon stopped and stared. Half of the papers that he was carrying slipped to the floor. "Martin. What is that, and what the hell do you think you're doing, bringing it into the Institute?"

"I can explain," Martin told him, running a soothing hand over the dog's back.

"Then _explain_ ," Jon insisted, through gritted teeth. 

"Well, I saw it, uh, looking lost, outside, and we were going to call a shelter, and just keep an eye on it until we can... until..."

"I warned you not to pull a stunt like this again - "

"It's not a stunt! I was just worried - "

"Can't you try worrying about your job, not about every random stray - "

Rosie rapped her knuckles on the desk. "Jonathan! Please keep your voice down."

"I - I hardly think I'm overreacting!" Jon replied, kneeling to pick up the paperwork. "I warned him that his job would be on the line if pulled anything so monumentally stupid again."

"Wait, Jon, you can't mean that. I wasn't... please, just give me the morning off and I'll take it straight to a shelter," Martin suggested.

"No, you cannot have time off at a moment's notice to fix mistakes that you should never have made in the first place! If you won't listen to a word I say, then I don't think the Archives have any need of your - "

"No, Jon, please! I won't, it won't happen again, let me just let it back outside and - "

"No, I swear, enough is enough - "

Rosie swatted Jon with a loose sheet of paper, cutting short his tirade, then gestured around at the small crowd of staring visitors and colleagues. "Jonathan. You're making a scene."

"Ah... I'm sorry, Rosie." Jon coughed, then glared at Martin again. "Get rid of that thing, and start clearing your desk."

"No! No, you can't... Let's go talk to Elias, okay?" Martin headed for the stairs to the upper floors. "He's the one who hired me, and he's the one who transferred me, and if we explain the situation then I'm sure he'll sort it all out."

"What? Martin, no, you can't just.. I'm your manager!" Jon hurried to follow him up the stairs.

"And Elias is yours! If he says we need to work this out without firing anyone, then, then you have to, right?"

"He... I... You said you were going to put that animal back outside!"

"I will, once we've spoken to Elias. If he doesn't see for himself that it's a harmless little thing, then you'll feed him some story about a great feral beast - "

"I'm not... Get rid of it already!"

Rosie closed her eyes as the shouting faded into the distance. "Honestly, they're as bad as each other..."

***

Elias took a deep breath to brace himself as the shouting approached his office. By the time the door slammed open, a calm and professional smile was fixed on his face.

"Elias!"

"Elias, you can't let him fire me - "

" - brought in a stray, again, _again_ \- "

" - Rosie was just calling a shelter - "

" - irredeemably unprofessional - "

" - and if he'd give me the morning off - "

" - can you believe - "

" - won't happen again - "

" - won't even respect my decision - "

" - please!"

Elias gestured for silence, and his visitors both quieted down.

His laptop chose that moment to let out a piercing beep and restart itself.

Elias frowned at the computer, then glanced up at the dog that Martin was carrying. Before he could compose a reply, his phone rang. 

"One moment, please." Elias offered them a thin smile, then took the call.

"Hi, it's Sasha. I'm really sorry, but we seem to be having some technical trouble. I was examining some files that an old statement giver emailed us, when we got back in touch to ask for an update, and it looks like at least one of them was infected. My laptop's dead, and the virus seems to be spreading through the network. If you haven't switched yours on yet, then, uh, don't?"

Elias glanced down at his laptop. The screen was now full of roiling pixellated static. "...I'm afraid your warning has arrived somewhat late."

"Oh. Oh, I'm so sorry." Sasha sounded genuinely contrite. "I'm going to head over to IT to see if there's anything I can do to help them deal with this. There might not be a quick fix, but we'll keep you updated. Sorry."

"I'll see you there in a few minutes." Elias hung up, then turned his attention back to Jon and Martin. "I take it you both heard that? I'd better look into the scale of the damage. Please feel free to wait here until I get back."

"What? I can't... This can't wait all morning," Jon protested.

"Then resolve the matter as you see fit," Elias told him, trying to breeze past.

"No!" Martin stepped into his path. "He - he's trying to fire me! Please tell him to be reasonable, don't just let him..."

"You heard Elias. Don't get in his way," Jon interrupted.

Elias stared at Jon until his pompous expression wilted. "Have you actually fired him?"

"Well, no, not yet, but I don't see how else this matter can be resolved..." Jon trailed off into silence.

"I see. You will both wait here until I return." 

Elias pried Martin's fingers off the sleeve of his suit jacket, then made his way to the door and let it swing shut behind him.

***

Down in the archives, Tim answered a call on his desk phone. "Hi, Rosie. What's up?"

"Hi, Tim. I have a visitor for you. Andy Kindersley?"

"Ah, cool, I was expecting him. I'll be there in a minute."

"He said he lost his dog on the way in. I sent him up to Mr Bouchard's office, as I think Martin may have accidentally kidnapped the poor creature and taken it upstairs. Are you okay to meet him there?"

"Okaaaay...? Sure."

***

Martin and Jon were standing in front of Elias' desk, marinading in an awkward silence, when Tim's friend stepped through the door.

"Is that...? You found Bernadette!" Andy strode across the floor and held out his arms.

"Oh? _Oh_..." Martin knelt and let go of the little dog, which promptly ran back to its owner. 

"Rosie said you might've found her. I swear, I was on my phone for two minutes, and I thought she was right next to me, but when I looked down, she was gone. I searched up and down the street, and all around the block..."

"Ah, that's, uh, wow..." Martin backed away, evidently at a loss for words.

"Oh, hey. I'm Andy, by the way. A friend of Tim's. Tim Stoker. Do you know him, do you work with him...?"

"Yes, I'm Jon. I work with him in the Archives." Jon nodded at Andy in lieu of a handshake, as he seemed to have his hands full of dog. "And this is... Martin. He was just on his way out."

"What was that?" Tim asked, joining them in Elias' office.

"Tim! Oh, God, it's been the worst morning..." Martin turned to him with wide eyes, sounding on the verge of tears.

"Hey, what's wrong? What's everyone doing up here?" Tim glanced at all of them, then let his gaze rest on Jon. "What did you do?"

"This isn't something _I've_ done, this is..." Jon waved a hand around in frustration. "Look, can we just call it a crisis averted, for now, and pick this up with Elias when he gets back?"

"Crisis averted, huh? Are we all good?" Tim asked, eyebrows raised.

"Not until he stops talking about getting rid of me," Martin replied, still sounding choked up.

"You're not... You wouldn't." Tim gave Jon a warning look.

"I don't see how it's any of your business, Timothy." 

"Don't you _dare_ 'Timothy' me. Whatever your problem is... For fuck's sake, Jon, you look awful. Did you even sleep last night?"

"Not exactly, no," Jon admitted. "Too much work to do..."

"Alright, that's it. I don't care what happened," Tim announced. "You're clearly in no shape to sort this out. Please, Jon, just call this a sick day, go home, get some sleep, and come in tomorrow to handle this with a clear head." 

"That's not..." Jon swayed on his feet and caught himself against the desk, scattering papers again. "Uh, I suppose that's not the worst idea."

"Look, give those here." Tim took the paperwork off his hands. "I'll get this back downstairs. Sorry, Andy, can you hang on five minutes? I know I promised to show you round, and I will, if you're okay to wait here..."

"Actually, maybe another day. You seem to have a lot on your hands right now." Andy started edging towards the door.

"Ah, sure. Sorry. I'll make it up to you another time. Come on, Martin, let's head down to the break room. You look like you could use a cup of tea," Tim suggested.

"M-maybe, yeah. Thanks." 

"I... I should tell Elias that I'm heading home. He's over in IT, there's been some sort of system failure, so I'll just..." Jon joined them in heading for the door. "I - I'm sorry, Martin, I may have overreacted..."

"No, it's okay, I mean, if you're okay to let this slide, after all, then it's fine. Why don't I go with you to talk to Elias, to tell him we're good?" Martin asked, sounding keen.

"I suppose... I don't know that there's any point, but..." 

"If you're both going, then I'm going with you," Tim told them. "Someone needs to chaperone you two."

"Tim!" Martin blushed, then ducked his head and tried to keep a few paces ahead of them on their way down the corridor.

***

"I'm sorry, it doesn't look like we'll be able to resolve this today. Worst case scenario, we might have to trash everything and order new equipment." 

Sasha kept a close eye on Elias' reactions as the head of IT explained the situation. Elias was zoning out a lot, which was either a good or a bad sign, depending on what he was watching.

The door opened, and the rest of the Archival team made a sheepish entrance. 

"Jon? I thought I told you to wait in my office."

"Yes, I - I'm sorry, Elias, but I think it might be best if I go home for the day. I'm not feeling one hundred percent, and it's been brought to my attention that my judgement may have been somewhat... uh, suffice to say I've apologised to Martin, and you needn't concern yourself with the matter any further."

"Aw, did you kiss and make up?" Sasha teased.

"No! No, we absolutely did not do that," Martin protested, rather too vehemently. "I wouldn't, I mean, not unless he wanted to, and even then, not in the office, that'd be unprofessional, and he wouldn't want to anyway, and I, I, I shouldn't be saying this."

"Martin, what...?" Jon turned to him with a bleary stare.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable, I should go. Back to the archives. And work," Martin rambled, blushing furiously.

"Seriously? You have a crush on the boss?" Tim asked, sounding perfectly incredulous.

"N-no? Can we not...?" Martin laughed nervously, and turned to Elias. "You weren't going to fire me today, right? Please tell me I'm not fired."

Jon walked up to Elias, and waved a hand in Martin's direction. "Please tell me he's fired."

Elias silently counted to five before attempting to reply. "Jon - "

"Or at least transfer him back to the library, or to research," Jon added. "Or any other department. I can't - I can't work with this."

Martin rubbed his eyes. "I'm sorry, I wasn't trying to - "

"No." Jon cut him off, sounding completely flat.

"I just - "

"No," Jon interrupted again. "Please tell me we can send him home for the day, and discuss where else he might be better deployed."

Elias sighed. "Perhaps - "

"No!" Martin sounded several degrees more frantic. "If you're going to transfer me then I - don't I get a say?"

"Please calm down," Elias requested. "Nothing is going to be decided without your input."

"I can't afford to lose this job. I really can't," Martin insisted. "I wouldn't mind going back to the library, or - or I could do my best in research, but Sasha's told me all kinds of stories about Artefact Storage and I don't think I'd last -"

"Nobody said anything about Artefact Storage," Elias interrupted. "I assure you, Martin, nothing would be finalised without - "

"Artefact Storage is out of the question, right?" Sasha asked, sounding worried. "He's not exactly the type... I mean, nobody should have to work there unless they know exactly what they're getting into and they're up to the challenge."

"I won't be transferring him to Artefact Storage," Elias assured them. "Honestly, I'm not convinced of the need to transfer him at all, but we can discuss this further - "

"What do you mean, not convinced?" Jon sounded thoroughly appalled. "You can't very well encourage him to spend every day cooped up in the basement with me when you know for a fact - "

"Jonathan! That is not what I'm saying, but I doubt a more constructive conversation can be had at the present moment. In light of the current IT issues, why don't all four of you take the rest of the day off? We can reconvene for a departmental meeting..."

Elias trailed off, and his eyes flickered with something like fear. Without another word, he left the room at a run.

"That's it, then?" Jon stared after him.

Tim strode over to the door. "Yeah, that's it. Didn't know he could move so fast..."

Martin bit his lip, looking conflicted. Jon stepped closer, to speak to him at a volume the IT team couldn't overhear.

"Remember what the others said. We can't take him in a fight. Absolutely no way. We're done," Jon insisted.

Martin nodded, looking slightly less conflicted.

"So now we wait..." Sasha sighed. "Let's head back to the archives for some privacy."

Everyone kept quiet as they made their way slowly down the stairs. When they opened the door to their department, all eyes were drawn to the trapdoor lying open in the middle of the floor.

"He's in the tunnels." Jon sighed, taking a seat at the nearest desk.

"This is happening, huh? It's really happening," Martin added.

"Mmm. Sorry if I was, ah... If that was a bit over the top," Jon mumbled.

"Seemed to work, didn't it?" Martin shrugged. "Won't matter for much longer, anyway."

"We'll get through this," Jon insisted. "We'll all get through this."

"Even if we do, I can't quite imagine the future anymore," Sasha admitted. "We'll be in hospital, and then... Then what? I didn't dare do any research on blindness last night. If he'd been watching..."

"We'll adapt. That's the only option, isn't it?" Tim asked, dropping into a chair opposite Jon. 

"Easier said than done," Martin answered quietly.

"You're still worried about your Mum, aren't you?" Sasha reached over to clasp his hand. "I'm sure she'll be fine."

"Mm." Martin didn't offer much of a reply.

"Neither of us have much in terms of savings, do we?" Sasha mused. "And it might be a long time before we can work again, if we ever manage it. I probably won't be able to stay in my flat, or live alone anywhere else... I wouldn't want to live as an in-patient forever."

"You can get home visits, once you're settled," Martin told her. "And people can look after themselves, if they know what they're doing. But straight out of hospital... We'll need time to adapt. Time and money."

"Do any of you have family you can stay with?" Jon asked.

"Not really," Tim answered.

"Nope," Martin added.

"Not anymore," Sasha confirmed. "What about you?" 

"No, not anymore." Jon sighed. "I probably should've known that much about you already. You've all been my responsibility, and I let it come to this..."

"Not your fault," Martin told him. "You couldn't have known about Elias. Jonah. Or any of this."

"Well it certainly wasn't your fault either. If there's anything I can do..." Jon drummed his fingers on the desk. "When we get out of hospital, what about...? The idea may not appeal, but if any of you would like to share a house, if it would make things easier, even temporarily... I do have a certain amount saved up, myself, and I don't relish the idea of dealing with any of this alone either, and if you'd rather not, then that's perfectly understandable, but if it would be any help, then it's the least I can do."

"Seriously? You'd want to live with - with us?" Martin leaned on the desk for support, until Sasha nudged a chair in his direction.

"Yes. I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't serious." 

"Sure? Maybe? If nothing else works out," Tim answered, his tone a highly strained attempt at casual.

"I'd have to think about it, but that's an option. A much appreciated option. We could lean on each other, couldn't we? At least for a while," Sasha agreed.

"If it wouldn't be an imposition... I mean, now you know how I feel..." Martin slid lower in his chair, his fingernails digging into his palms.

"I told you, I don't mind. Wouldn't have stopped me from working with you, if we weren't quitting, and I - I dare say we're all in this together, so. That's a plan," Jon insisted, awkwardly stubborn.

A tremor ran through the building, shaking a few files off the nearby shelves.

Sasha nipped over to her desk and dialed an extension on her landline phone. "Hi, Rosie? Could you pop down in fifteen minutes to help us plan for a meeting tomorrow? Not right away, give us a few minutes to finish our notes. Fifteen minutes? You promise? Right, see you soon."

Sasha hung up, then pulled a fourth chair over to the desk where the others were gathered.

"Well done." Tim offered her a bleak smile.

"Right, so, then, it's time," Jon added, his voice shaking worse than the walls following the signal. "You can all face this. I know you can. We've made it this far, and I - I'm not losing any of you."

***

Far below the archives, Gertrude and her unofficial assistants stared down at Jonah Magnus' withered form. 

"Got a knife?" Gertrude checked.

"Sure do." Gerard spun the blade between his fingers.

"Hm. Well done." Gertrude leaned over her murderer, a satisfied glint in her eyes. "Fifty years is a long time, isn't it, Jonah? Are you still feeling nostalgic? Complacent? Well, no matter. I'll show you ' _end of an era_ '..."


	2. Fresh start

The last Sunday of July dawned bright and breezy in the seaside town of Worthing. By mid morning, the sun had thoroughly warmed the pastel blue walls of a large mid-terrace house half a block from the beach.

A goth with short black hair emerged from the front door and set about watering the potted plants in the courtyard. He picked a sprig of leaves from the bay tree, then headed back inside. 

In the kitchen, Martin was typing on a braille label maker when his housemate returned. 

"Picked some bay leaves."

"Ah, thanks, Gerry."

Martin held out his free hand. Gerry passed him the leaves, then put the watering can away in the cupboard under the sink. Martin finished typing a 'spice rack' label, printed it out and stuck it to the edge of the counter, then stuffed the leaves into one of the nearby glass jars and started typing a 'bay leaves' label. 

Over in the sitting room, Jon was perched in the center of a large sofa, between Tim and Sasha, while an audiobook about cyberwarfare played from Sasha's laptop speakers. The politics was fascinating, but when it started getting into a section on technical details, Jon found it went rather over his head, and leaned back against the cushions with a stifled sigh. His shoulder brushed against Tim's arm; Tim laughed slightly, and leaned closer.

"Getting bored?"

"No." Jon tried to sound like he meant it.

"If you two have had enough, I could plug my headphones in," Sasha offered.

"No, it's fine." Jon slumped against Tim's side, resolving to listen until the narration returned to a more interesting angle.

"If you say so." Sasha sounded amused, at least.

When the doorbell rang, Jon perked up. "Is it eleven already? That must be Georgie."

"I'll get the door," Gerry shouted from the kitchen, as Sasha paused the audiobook.

"I'll come too." Jon edged around the coffee table and slid a foot over to one of the raised guidelines installed across the floor. He made it to the front hall at about the same time as Gerry, and stood back as the door was opened.

"Hi, Jon. Nice place you've got here." Georgie sounded genuinely pleased to see him, which settled something twisting in his stomach that had lingered even after they'd made plans over the phone. "And you must be Gerry?"

"Yeah. Come on in." 

"I brought you a housewarming gift," Georgie announced, as they made their way through to the main room. "Nothing big, just a tin of biscuits and a box of chocolates. Jon said they might go down well."

"Yeah, they won't last five minutes around here," Gerry told her. "Good choice."

Jon reclaimed his seat as the others made their introductions. Judging from the rustling nearby, Georgie seemed to have claimed one of the armchairs. 

"Tim Stoker. Nice to meet you."

"You too. And Sasha, right?"

"Good guess."

"Uh, hi, I'm Martin. Would you like a drink?"

"A glass of water would be great, thanks."

"Sure, one second." Martin headed back into the kitchen. 

"How was the journey?" Gerry asked, from the direction of the other armchair.

"Oh, not bad. The trains were pretty crowded, but I'd expect as much, over the summer," Georgie answered. "A couple of hours from door to door isn't too much of a trek."

"We tried to pick somewhere quieter than London, but close enough to keep in touch with friends," Tim told her. "Had a couple of little housewarming parties in our first few weeks here, though we weren't up to hosting too many guests at once."

"Here's your water." Martin set down a glass on the coffee table with a slight clink.

"Thanks."

"Sit down, Martin. You've been on your feet all morning. Aren't you knackered from all that labelling?" Tim nudged Jon into shifting along to make space on the sofa.

"Well, there's a lot to do. But sure," Martin agreed, taking the spot on Tim's other side.

"You didn't bring The Admiral, then?" Jon asked, unable to quite contain his disappointment.

"No, I don't think he'd have enjoyed the journey. Jeff's keeping an eye on him today."

"The Admiral?" Sasha queried.

"Our..." Jon paused and winced. " _Her_ cat."

"Did you used to be roommates?" Martin asked. "Jon said you were friends at uni."

"Friends." Georgie sounded unimpressed. Jon could imagine the look on her face.

"I wasn't entirely sure you'd show up today, and I didn't want to invite needless gossip," Jon explained, sounding grumpy even to his own ears.

"What? Exes...?" Tim guessed.

"Yep," Georgie confirmed.

"Wait, really?" Tim sounded surprised.

"Could you not...?" Jon grit his teeth, unsure what he could ask of the others besides _'don't be obnoxious'_. He didn't need to turn this into an argument. "I... We didn't part on the best of terms. Mainly my fault. But then she heard about the Magnus Institute burning down, and, ah..."

"I saw your names in the papers, and figured it was time to get in touch. See if he was willing to bury the hatchet," Georgie explained. "If he'd still wanted to keep his distance, then, y'know. I wouldn't be visiting today."

"It's been a hectic year, so far. But I - I'm glad we're all here," Jon added, wincing internally at the understatement as he heard the words leave his mouth. "I didn't want her to visit the hospital. Getting back on my feet first sets a - a better tone for a reunion."

"Jon said you wanted to do some research into the Institute for your show, too...?" Sasha prompted Georgie.

"Yeah, I'm planning a collaborative episode with Melanie King, from Ghost Hunt UK," Georgie confirmed. "She was having trouble finding enough crew who were willing to explore the ruins, what with the fire being so recent. Legal issues, safety issues, and so on. She asked me if I could recommend anyone, and we decided to look into it together. Once we've caught up properly, I wouldn't mind hearing your thoughts on the place."

"So is this a social visit, or a work visit?" Martin asked, his tone oddly sharp.

"A social visit," Georgie replied, taking a friendly tone. "If you don't want to discuss it, that's fine. On the other hand, if you'd like to get involved, I'll let Melanie know, and we'll stop by another time for interviews and the like."

"I'm not averse to being interviewed," Sasha told her, "depending on the angle you're using. We've given the media a lot of interviews already, as you may have noticed. Most of the articles were pretty lurid, but they still helped pay for this place. Turns out Gerry's a good manager."

"Georgie's, ah, already aware of the supernatural elements of our situation," Jon added. "I've warned her that any discussion of the entities tends not to record digitally, and therefore wouldn't be suitable for broadcast. Either she'll find evidence of some rather more mundane ghosts, in which case we could provide additional context about the building, or the ghost hunting will fall flat, in which case we could make up some more tabloid nonsense."

"I still can't believe everyone bought the cult angle," Tim mused.

"How else were they going to explain away all the self-mutilation at an occult research institute? If we hadn't told everyone that Elias forced us into it for weird cult reasons, they'd have jumped to the same conclusions anyway," Sasha ventured.

"I can't imagine that excuse helped you get out of hospital any sooner," Georgie commented.

"A fair point," Jon admitted. "We all needed quite a bit of surgery anyway. To sort out our eyes, a-and for facial skin grafts. Oh, in case you were wondering, Gerry advised us that blank prosthetic eyes would be safer than anything realistic looking. Beholding claims all eyes, even their images. Not that we gave that as our reasoning, or any other supernatural truths. So, yes, given our choice of excuse, for a while there, we had to attend a lot of therapy. Which wasn't too bad, honestly. We tried not to go into much detail about Elias' cult. Feigning traumatised amnesia was the easier lie. There was more of a focus than I expected on our reasons for ending up in a vulnerable position, our lives before the Institute, which was, ah... more helpful than I'd have anticipated."

"I'm glad to hear it," Georgie replied. "You know I've always worried about you, Jon."

"Yes, well..." Jon coughed, acutely embarrassed. "There was a reason we didn't move here until May. And we have Gerry to thank for making it happen, even then. We all had a lot to adapt to at once, and we'd lost our old apartments in the meantime. He was kind enough to put our possessions into storage before we lost them too, and start househunting for a five bedroom place on the south coast, and grease a few wheels, and stick around as a - a far better friend than I could ever have asked for, even after saving our lives."

"Sounds like you've really hit it off," Georgie replied, her smile audible in her voice.

"Yeah. I couldn't help worrying about this lot," Gerry explained. "My Dad used to work for the Institute, and he quit the same way, when I was a tot. He died soon after, though. I guess I wanted to see it work out better, this time around."

"Thank you," Jon told him quietly.

"You're welcome. Ah, but don't get me wrong. I wouldn't have opted to live with you if we didn't get along so well," Gerry added. "Not sure I ever told you, but I've tried to leave the supernatural behind before. Trying to live a normal life just... didn't work when everyone around me was completely ignorant of the horrors I'd been immersed in my whole life. It was too isolating. But this time, I've got friends who know what's out there, and know better than to go chasing after it again. Honestly, lately, I... I think this is the happiest I've ever been."

"Aw, Gerry..." Sasha shifted from the sofa, and it sounded like a timely hug ensued.

"I'm glad you're happy here," Martin spoke up. "You've done so much for all of us, I - I've been feeling a bit useless in comparison, even while I've been learning to do more around the house. If you ever want to talk, a-about anything, I'd be happy to lend you an ear. It's the least I can do." 

"Ah, thanks. But you shouldn't be worrying," Gerry replied. "We all know how much you've been pushing yourself lately. You don't need to overdo it."

"I'm not overdoing it. I want to do more," Martin insisted. "I mean, you bought all that smart tech for the kitchen, so I ought to at least learn how to use it. There's plenty I can practice this week, like we were shown. I never used to do much cooking, besides, like, ready meals and tins. Once I've picked this up, I could be a better cook than I ever was before."

"I'm looking forward to sampling the results," Tim assured him.

"You sound like you've been keeping busy," Georgie observed. "Do you get out to the beach much?"

"Sometimes, yeah," Tim answered. "It's a bit busy this time of year, but there are some nice cafes along the boardwalk. Honestly, we all wanted to find somewhere quieter and cheaper than London, but it was Jon who was really keen on the south coast."

"Nostalgic for Bournemouth?" Georgie asked, taking a gentle tone.

"Yes, more or less. I wouldn't want to go back to my childhood hometown. My memories of it are too... mixed. But I have found myself getting nostalgic for the sea. I find the sound helps me orient myself when I'm out of the house."

"Do you want to take a walk out to the beach, while you're here?" Sasha asked.

"It'd be a shame not to," Georgie confirmed. "Besides, Melanie's asked me to bring her back a stick of rock." 

"Is everyone up for a walk?" Tim checked.

"I'll pass," Martin replied. "Still not as sure on my feet, outside."

"Fair enough. Will you be okay here if the rest of us are out for a while?" Tim asked. "It's getting on for lunchtime, and I'm thinking we could show Georgie that chippy by the pier."

"Oh, you're eating out?" Martin didn't sound happy. "I thought... I sort of assumed me and Gerry would cook for everyone. I mean, we've got enough in, and then we could all eat together..."

"This place is bringing out your nesting instincts, hm?" Jon couldn't keep the fondness from his tone. He only hoped it didn't come across as condescending.

Martin groaned and shifted with a slight rustle of fabric. His next words were closer and half-muffled, as if he was burying his face in Tim's shoulder. "That's a nicer way of putting it than agoraphobia."

Tim shifted as if pulling Martin into a hug. Jon reached out a hand to confirm this, and patted Martin's shoulder.

"Hey, it's fine. You're fine," Jon told him, wishing his own words didn't sound so awkwardly insufficient.

"We're all finding our feet," Tim added. "You've never been keen on change at the best of times, have you?"

"Look, you don't need to humour me..." Martin sounded acutely embarrassed.

"I think it's only fair, actually," Tim told him. "You humour us often enough."

"I'd be honoured to try whatever you and Gerry feel like cooking for lunch," Georgie announced.

"Ah. Alright." Martin sounded like he didn't quite know what to do with himself right now.

"Come on, we'd better get started," Gerry prompted him.

"Right. Uh, just checking, do you have any allergies, Georgie?" Martin asked, already sounding a little steadier.

"No, but thanks for asking."

"Right. Right, we'll see what we can do."

"Why don't the rest of us go out for a twenty minute walk in the meantime?" Tim suggested.

"Sounds like a plan," Sasha agreed. "You could tell us more about this show of yours, Georgie. I started listening after Jon mentioned it the other week, but I'm not very far through the old episodes yet."

"Oh, a new fan? Sure, I'll tell you how much you've got to look forward to."

"And, uh, perhaps you could call Jeff, and put The Admiral on the phone?" Jon suggested.

"Sure thing, Jon," Georgie replied, barely stifling a laugh. "You should visit us in London next time, if you're up for the trip."

"Next time," Jon echoed, letting the idea sink in. "Yes. Maybe not alone, but..."

"Your friends are welcome too. Just as you're welcome, as a friend."

"Then yes, that would be... ah..."

"Take your time." How could Georgie still sound so fond of him, after all this time?

"Thank you. For the fresh start."


End file.
